


11 Blocks

by goddamnitkastlewrites



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-24 12:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14355120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddamnitkastlewrites/pseuds/goddamnitkastlewrites
Summary: First posted to goddamnitkastle.tumblr.com on April 17, 2018.The original summary is below:"FINALLY!I was wondering if this fic would ever see the light of day, I’m glad I didn’t give up on it. I think it needed elements from the first season of The Punisher to complete it.Inspired by 11 Blocks by WrabelEnjoy :)"





	11 Blocks

Three years and it’s still so vivid. The day at the carousel viciously thrives in his memory, time refusing to dull it. He can’t walk into a park without his chest tightening. Every time he sees a family a scream forms in his throat. Even as he tries to sleep the faces of those he loves offer no solace. They simply stare back at him. Not moving and in shock.

As he walks along 10th Avenue he wonders if he should just do it. Fling himself into oncoming traffic. These suicidal tendencies aren’t anything new but they’d become stronger recently. Three years isn’t necessarily significant in terms of milestones. No the number 3 is usually related to deaths.

_They all go in threes_ the saying goes.

His eyes start watering and he blinks the tears away. He wants to get back to the bunker first. Then he’ll break down. But not now, not when the 9 to 5’s are coming out of their office buildings, heading home. They don’t need to see that sight as they begin their weekends.

He recounts his day of retconning on some trust fund baby. There wasn’t anything incriminating, just some dick with a BMW and too much time to kill. Micro had passed the info along, there wasn’t much to go on aside from tabloid rumors of foul play with an adult film star. He vaguely remembers seeing her face on the news, covered in bruises.

_But hey something to do, right?_  Micro suggested. Frank knew it was a nudge to get him out, he hadn’t left the bunker in three weeks. He left early in the morning, intel in hand. Dusk was settling now; the city phasing into its night scene.

He looks up to see where he is before he wanders too far off. Only 11 more blocks. He wants to go straight but stops cold. He recognizes the corner bodega. He’s been here before, a few times. He feels like a fucking idiot for forgetting. The first was almost three years ago. At the time his heart was racing, Reyes was dead and every cop was on his trail...

_He had tracked down her address, hoping she was brought home and not caught in the crossfire. The cop car in front of her building confirmed that. The cops would be easy to take down but he was terrified of her. He didn’t know if he could convince her, all signs pointed to him for killing Reyes. But she had to know it wasn’t him and that Blacksmith was still out there. And he wouldn’t stop until they were all dead. Tower. Murdock. Nelson._

_Page._

_(That night also thrives, when he’s dead asleep and his family hasn’t come to remind him of all his shortcomings.)_

_(Her whispered, near hysterical “I believe you” haunts him as he drowns in blue. Everything is blue with her.)_

He stops in front of the building. The light in her apartment is on. He shouldn’t be here. Neither should she, it was the kind of night to go on an adventure. Not with him though, it’s been a year since they last spoke to each other. After all the shit with Anvil and Kandahar they mutually agreed to minimal contact. For her safety, for his reputation. Despite this agreement there are flowers outside her window. Even from far away he can see that they’re in bad shape.

He paces the sidewalk, fully aware of the looks he’s getting from passerbys.

What would he even say?  _I walked here, realized where I was, and all I could think of was you? And the night when my hands were up and you almost took the shot?_

The memories come flooding in. Every moment they spent together. Her freezing cheek when he kissed it. Her silhouette against the bench at the river. The deafening. ringing sound after their bodies smacked into the tile floor. The feeling of her forehead against his, bringing on the slightest fraction of peace in him after a day of fucking hell.

He walks away, wishing more than anything he was someone else. But he can’t. He has to be... this now. He was reborn into this new life and this life requires solitude.

“Frank?”

Damn she is quick. He turns in reluctance, sees that she must’ve literally ran down the stairs to catch him. No robe and in her pajamas. At least she remembered to grab shoes.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood. I gotta go.”

“Wait.”

He stops in spite of himself.

“Are you okay? I know it’s coming up... the...”

“Karen.”

“I know you want to be alone. I respect that. But you can always reach out to me. Just... be careful.”

She is always concerned for his safety, just as he is. It shouldn’t be that way but that’s never been them. She wraps her arms around herself. She’s turning away from him and his mind can’t stop.

“What do you do?”

“What?”

“Kevin. When that day comes.”

Her eyes go wide.

“How do you...”

“Doesn’t matter. Tell me. Please.”

She’s visibly upset, wants to push on but at his  _please_  she swallows and shakes her head.

“Uh... nothing special. I know, that sounds awful but I don’t exactly have a grave to visit or my parents to... honestly I just listen to his favorite songs. He had his own playlist on my iPod. So last year when I got home from work I played it. And cried. I eventually fell asleep and then... it was over. The sun rose and I was still alive. Still here.”

He didn’t realize how much he missed her voice until right now. The broken rawness that was reserved only for him. He knew he brought that out of her and it hurt him.

He walks to her and she is staring back.

“Thank you Karen.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I should get going.”

“Yeah just uh, call me? Or let me know you’re...”

“Yeah I will.”

She climbs up the steps to the front door of her building. He watches her go. His chest feels lighter and he recognizes it as the feeling of relief. Of feeling understood. His mind tells him to not hurt her or himself. He wrestles with his thoughts as he heads into the corner bodega to buy flowers.

**Author's Note:**

> 11 Blocks by Wrabel is linked here:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qs6RFnSR00w


End file.
